


Tell Me a Story, Tell Me a Lie

by ValidAsshole



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M, Will add characters and ships as I go, based on whumptober prompts, yes im behind but i'll catch up i dont promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-11-27 17:48:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20952413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValidAsshole/pseuds/ValidAsshole
Summary: Top of Chapter will have a summary for each! Whumptober for all your angst needs :P





	1. Shisui/Danzo - Trembling Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Shisui/Danzo Implied  
T rating, Shisui getting captured by Danzo and contemplating life with an eye missing.  
Prompt: Shaking Hands.

He’s so cold. There’s no windows- no light, and if his eyes weren’t so used to the void of darkness he wouldn’t even have been able to see Danzo smile gently at him as he set him on the floor and leaning up against the wall.

Bugs - bugs he’d learned to trust. The Aburame were in their village, were _ allies _so he almost doesn’t understand why he was stung so many times. 

Why he couldn’t move.

He’d trusted Danzo with his life, with his clan's life, only to find that he was not to be followed. According to Danzo-sama, it was the Uchiha that could not be trusted. Shisui who only wanted to live in the village in peace without a civil war, the Uchiha who only wanted to be accepted, treated with respect by the higher ups instead of acting like every political move the Uchiha tried to make was inherently against the village.

Lord Third was complacent.

And Shisui. Shisui was alone.

Alone and paralyzed and what felt like 3 blunt kunai digging into his chest.

If anything, the thing he hated most was that he understood. Shinobi were not good, shinobi should not trust. All that trust gives is more death. All that love gives is heartbreak, whether purposeful or not. Shinobi were killers and rotten to the core and lived as cogs for their villages. He was just more a fool to try and _ believe _ in those he’d throw away everything for. 

(He would’ve brainwashed his own _ family _, would’ve made them content with the village’s hatred, for their own good, yes. But- but sometimes he feels like it should nag at him, in this void where he can’t make himself care. As long as they’re alive, as long as they’re smiling, what’s one measly changed opinion to that?)

Feelings were a mistake should they occur. And as much as Konoha pretended it held friendship, _ comradery _, in high regards. They didn’t hold taking care of their own as more important than for the good of all. One suffers and grows and dies, and all prosper.

The Will of Fire. The will to sacrifice one’s self to make sure there was no danger to their way of life. 

And in Danzo’s opinion, the Uchiha were a danger. Lord Third did not disagree. And that meant _ everything._

Shisui wondered why the Uchiha had ever joined and trusted and died for a village that had always hated them. 

And sitting on the cold floor, almost shivering if his body would just _ move _, all he could think about was the chill in his heart and Danzo’s smile in the dark. 

The shining of a stolen eye. He recognized it from perfected drawings from Sharingan’s inherent ability to copy. His ancestors. _ Kagami’s. _Danzo would do so much more to get what he wanted. If even his teammate’s life was not enough to stop him, nothing could. 

The numbness of everything, the liquid he could see dripping down his face. Dark and pooling and he couldn’t even find the strength to lift up an arm and try and staunch the bleeding.

_ “An Experiment _,” He’d said. Taking an eye and an experiment. 

An eye not freely given was harder to implant then one that was, after all. He wonders how Danzo found that out. 

He wonders how many times he’s tried.

And he thinks of all the bodies burned with missing eyes, and Uchiha railing to find out just who was eye-stealing from bodies mysteriously dying on missions (was it Kiri? What clan? Who would _ dare.) _ and the suspicious silence coming from the higher ups. How Lord Third had promised to look into it, how it had quietly gotten hushed. Fugaku-sama’s pinched look. 

He shivers, tries to move a finger and gets a twitch. Finally.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he tests each and every extremity, moving and moving more and more, until he can lift a hand up shakily. 

Not in control of his body at all, and after so long after perfecting _ every single move _ his body makes, it shouldn’t be a surprising fact that this loss of control scares him more than the chilling darkness around them, the glimmer in Danzo’s eye, the promise of something terrible happening to his clan, the foresight of his own death. All of it paled to this empty feeling, this struggle, this helplessness. _ Why won’t his body listen to him? _

He remembers the smile and Danzo’s touch, Aburama passively watching, and all of it is swallowed up by the fear of his trembling hands. More than he feared what others could do, he feared what he _ couldn’t hope _to stop. 

No, no, he couldn’t allow Danzo to do what he wished.

He wouldn’t allow it, even if it killed him.

He slowly, slowly, hung onto the wall, climbed up the almost flat material and almost sobbed from sheer frustration when he fell back again. 

_ Fuck, fuck, fuck. _

He’s half leaning against the wall, trying again to stand, to hope. 

He can barely get a grip on it, hands shaking like a newborn, body slowly coming back to him. 

There's sudden light, and he flinches. 

“Shisui?”

The soft voice of his cousin meets him. He can’t find it in himself to be relieved. 


	2. Madara/Kagami - explosions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madara/Explosions - Explosions  
Rated T, warnings for underage, pedophilia, etcetc
> 
> Madara is awful, and i am HERE for it.

Meetings were always boring. This one was going on and on more than he’d like. Mostly, because he had more important things on his mind. He shouldn’t leave him alone, _ not after that _. And yet he’d left to this meeting thinking it would be short instead, and now he was too anxious for it to be done with. 

Izuna elbowed him in the ribs, and he knew that if he didn’t at least act like he was paying attention, he would be scolded by elders as if he wasn’t a capable clan elder and they weren’t talking about the Senju’s positioning for the thousandth fucking time.

He was a little stressed, you could say. Only a bit. 

“They’ve been encroaching in our borders to the west recently, we_ should _be reinforcing the patrols there if nothing else! They’ve already shown once they can get past them.”

He hadn’t meant to blow up on him like that. 

“And? What if it’s a trick to weaken our other patrols. This could just be a false pattern to lead us into our own doom…”

It had been a rough battle. Everyone’s emotions were on high. 

That didn’t mean he should’ve… he’s older, he shouldn’t be one to lose control of his emotions in such a way, especially when Kagami was grieving. (They were all grieving). 

And who knows where Kagami is hiding now. 

He wanted to yell enough, to walk out of the meeting. To do, do something.

“We don’t have enough people to add to the western patrol, but we shouldn’t have to worry about that. Not if we hit back instead of waiting for them to attack and trying to play a wooden shield.”

Izuna’s voice. A voice of reason.

“Are you insane? What kind of plan is that! We’ve already lost too many people.”

And Madara lets out a long sigh.

“You’d rather play the part of the coward? If we stay like this they’ll only push through eventually. We need to _ change _ direction.”

They were. They were going to go back and forth like this for a while, weren’t they.

So he sat through it, willing himself not to set the whole room on fire. Uchiha instincts were so terrible to deal with sometimes. The way it’s looking though, if not him, Elder Yahiro will set the fire for him. How pleasant.

Their “rebuild stuff because it’s on fire” budget was really too high. And not high enough.

And then he’s calling everything to order, just like a good clan head should, not setting everything on fire, not telling everyone how idiotic their bickering is, and making his voice sounds even instead of just thinly veiled irritation. 

And he agrees with Izuna, and mourns the people that will be lost. More would be lost in the long run if they did nothing though. And already so many had died. He would be lying to say he wasn’t enraged by the recent deaths, and the want to make the Senju experience it twice fold.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever numb to death, not when he sees the pain it inflicts on the remaining. They would be avenged. And then the cycle would start anew.

He can almost says he’s tired of the exhausting cycle, but that would be the same as giving up, of being cowards, as Izuna liked to say. He’d protect who he could, save who he could. And he hopes this is the right move.

At least most of the elders seem to agree with him, so it isn’t challenged in a manner he’d have to address.

He leaves at a fast pace, as quickly as he can after assuaging everyone’s fears.

And then he’s searching. Under beds and in bushes, through hallways, and in closets. Uses his measly sensor skills and tries to locate that small chakra signal, and laments the day he let Hikaku teach Kagami how to control his chakra.

It takes a good bit. The little one is almost impossible at finding when he doesn’t want to be found. There’s only so many places he could hide without leaving the grounds though, and even he wouldn’t do so, not with how they’d made sure all the children knew the danger the Senju posed to them.

Not all of the Senju, but enough of them. The truth. Not something you wanted to risk when you were small and squishy and _ vulnerable _. And they were shinobi children, they understood.

And he doesn’t think Kagami would hide in someone else’s house. Not his aunts or uncles, and his grandparents were dead, his parents freshly buried. He’d already checked their room, careful not to disturb anything. 

He hadn’t been there.

And Madara had the time to _ worry _. He made cursory visits to his close family and friends, and no one had seen him, and he knew no one would dare to lie.

He takes a breath in, gets ready to leave the walls to search.

When he remembers one place he hasn’t checked. And Kagami would be a fool to hide there after what he said, to take comfort there, to wait for him so, so childlike and trusting. He wants to smack himself for not thinking to check their earlier. God does he hope that he’ll find Kagami there.

He knows he’s right when he enters his home and he can feel the tiniest prickle of a chakra signal deeper into the house. 

He lets out a breath of relief. He’s safe.

And he didn’t piss of the elders by leaving early, nor did he doom Kagami by not finding him earlier. He somehow still felt guilty.

He feels worse when he finds him bundled up in the corner, blankets pulled from Madara’s bed pooled around him and tear stains on his face, asleep.

Really, he could’ve just stayed in the bed, the fool, as if Madara was actually angry at him. As if Madara had the right to be mad at a grieving child for the sin of having been upset and not thinking about what he said.

Everything had just been - a lot.

And he resolves to tell Kagami this once he wakes up, to apologize and hope he’ll be forgiven. He says a prayer for a restful deep sleep as he picks up Kagami as slowly as he can to place him on the bed. 

Of course the little bugger wakes up. A sleepy frown on his face and a quiet little whimper when he looks up to see Madara.

“I’m sorry…” quiet, so quiet, and so unlike Kagami. Madara feels like the _worst _. 

He hushes him, holding him tighter to him, “Go back to sleep, everything’s fine, little one. I’m not mad.” And he’d apologize properly later, right now Kagami seems _ so tired _ and he should sleep. 

It shows in the way always curious Kagami sleepily clings to Madara and doesn’t question his response. The way he presses his face into Madara’s neck and lets out a quiet sound, almost a whimper. Madara wonders how long its been since Kagami properly slept, if he woke up so easily, if he seems so tired. 

Madara’s been busy, and doing a terrible job of making sure he went to bed. He wasn’t meant for taking care of a child, and Kagami was too strong spirited, always hard to bring down, make him listen to things he didn’t want to. He laments that although Kagami was technically staying with his uncle on his mother’s side, that he had most of the time crashed at Madara’s place.

“I… I didn’t mean to say, I’m just…” and Madara shushes him again with a kiss to his forehead when he looks up, watching as dark brown eyes closed as his lips pressed close. 

“Sleep, Kagami.” he says, “I know you were upset, I do not blame you, I only blame myself for overreacting.” because that is what he’d done, as if he were a child.

There was so much pressure on him, so much loss and anger, and Madara was the first to admit he could be an absolute mess sometimes. This time he’d hurt Kagami. He’d have to make sure he doesn’t do it again.

Kagami looks up at him again, tears building in the edges of his eyes, and Madara’s heart _ hurts _. 

His hand cups Kagami’s tiny head, draws him close, and places a chaste kiss on his lips, until bright red eyes close once again and Kagami relaxes. 

When he ends the kiss, Kagami is asleep, a tiny smile on his face, and Madara feels _ terrible. _(and a little bit like he’s soaring.)


	3. Izuna&Madara Uchiha - Delirium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izuna and his Death Bed. Unreliable Narrator ;D
> 
> Warnings for well. Death. and Hallucinations~ yay.

Everything is hot, hot, too hot. He’s suffocating.   


He’s suffocating and there’s a hand on his throat and the deep voice he’d never forget whispering cruelly in his ear, telling him all his faults, all who he’d kill when Izuna died, of how worthless he was.   


Tobirama, Tobirama. The cursed Senju. His enemy, his match, meeting his sword strike for strike. He hates him, more than anything.

And the anger coursing through him gives him the energy to throw the blanket off that he’d previously avoided doing so in favor of lying in a pile of misery and self-pity.

He’s alone in the room, and it hurts, it hurts, he wants to kill the Senju for reducing him to this, for his voice running through his head with words he couldn’t even pinpoint if they words had actually been  _ spoken  _ or not.   


His legs locked up on him, and there’s a pressure on his shoulder he ignores, because he sees the bastard near the wall. And in his fever-induced state he doesn’t care if it’s real or not, only wants to yell out in anger and make him go away. To kill him maybe, if he weren’t so damn weak.

This was unacceptable, and through the red, red rage and the bloodied room, he thinks he hears the murmur of a voice. Too quiet, too quiet, and he can’t understand and it only builds on the rage fueling him into moving when he hadn’t moved for  _ days _ . 

Pain would’ve surely forced him back into unconsciousness if he wasn’t so focused on- on picking up a pillow and throwing it with all his force.

It flops halfway on its way to the Senju smirking at him in the corner and Izuna doesn’t stop himself from yelling, unintelligible words that he can’t even hear himself.

His eyes hurt, they’re bleeding he knows, and the blood at least covers up the image of Tobirama mocking him from the corner of his vision. A part of him knows he needs to stop using the sharingan if he wants to give them to Nii-san, but he can’t quite control himself right now, let alone the sharingan.   


He's too weak to get Tobirama to go away, to even pull him into a genjutsu to show him how foolish it was to look Izuna in the eyes even if he was sick. And he hates himself a little bit for his inability to equal Tobirama now, too weak. His hands bid themselves up his face to claw at his face, try to get the blood off, try to get his eyes _working. _

It’s when a hand covers what field of vision he has left that he starts struggling for real against the pressure that he’d hoped was a delusion up until now.

“Get off me! You cursed Senju! Fuck! Off! And! Die!” Izuna growls, not quite a yell when his words keep dying in his throat, cut off by a cough or cracking when he tries to speak too loudly.   


He pushes at the arms around him, clawing at them, and only wants to be away from the Senju. He’d told him, told him not to trust the Senju. Why why why was he here then? Haunting Izuna on his deathbed, bothering him even in death?

He tries to squirm out of the grip stilling him, forcing him back down, and that too hot heat over him once again.   


He calms when he feels a cold washcloth over his forehead, over his eyes.   


He does not hear his beloved Nii-san bid him to sleep, nor does he hear him cry over another lost brother, Madara's sharingan spinning into the pattern of their combined Mangekyo, hot tears falling to land on the washcloth covering what pained his little brother so.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Izuna does not have his eyes throughout all of that :D


	4. ButsuTobi - Human Shield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I followed the prompt so, so loosely, its like, not even the prompt anymore.
> 
> Rated E (not for everyone u.u)  
Warnings for incest and like pedophilia because this tobi is NOT older than like 16 (how young you want to go is your choice lmao)

Vines crawl up and out of the floor as Anija stands absolutely still, anger lining his frame, yet not an inch of it showing in almost eerily blank face. Really, if he wanted to pretend to be unaffected, he should learn to control his body more, and that was something Tobirama could work with him on.

At the very least, Hashirama listened to his viewpoints, if not his voice. (If they’d grown apart so that they don’t share more than absolutely necessary anymore, well, they’re both to blame.)

Their failing relationship was not something he should be thinking about right now, rather he should be focused on how Butsuma’s hand has moved to his blade, and that they both looked ready to start fighting at any moment, tension high and lining the air until each breath is a struggle. 

He looked ready to up and grab him by the ear and drag him away to be punished, whether that be extra training or lecturing him for  _ hours _ . Tobirama should know, he’s seen Hashirama sit through it before. He was only glad he knew that Hashirama would never see the same kind of punishment as Tobirama has, if that was for his own sake or his Anija’s well… he didn’t think too much on it. 

But Hashirama looked ready to actually try and fight him this time, more than a simple sparring session, and Tobirama had a moment to feel afraid the outcome, whether that be his Anija being labeled a traitor if he failed, or a dead and disgraced father otherwise.

Was Butsuma finally tired of putting up with Hashirama’s stubborn disobedience? And he has to stop them, both of them, now-

Blood pounds in his ear as he steps between them, not knowing who he’s shielding - not knowing who’s stronger, just that his family fighting is the farthest thing he wants to experience right now. The vines don’t calm down, and he’s met with an angry snarl and clenched fists. 

It feels achingly familiar to a time long past, he isn’t so little anymore, doesn’t spread his arms out foolishly try and protect Hashirama. (They were both stronger than him, even then, he knew this achingly well.)

“Move.” and it’s not quite a surprise that it comes from both of them.

Ah, was this unavoidable then? 

“Will the both of you allow your emotions control you? In the middle of a war where you are both needed  _ uninjured? _ ”(not to mention, alive.) He hopes the reminder of their responsibilities will calm them down. Even years past his childhood, he finds himself hating how self-oriented adults are, how so much horror could have been avoided if they just took a moment to calm down and communicate, if they would just follow their own rules… 

And it’s a moot point now, he knows now that logic is not the human norm, and he can’t beat it into everyone. Not yet, and most definitely not without his family on his side. They need to stop this foolish bickering. He just wishes they’d listen- maybe he should just let them ride this out, but this would go too far, he can feel it in their chakra, in the way they’re so close to just forcibly moving him.

And he relaxes when Anija’s chakra finally calms down, his vines still moving through the earth underneath with a sort of nervous energy instead of being ready to  _ kill _ . His Anija is always somehow fidgeting, even if Father didn't approve of the habit. A hand meets his shoulder, but when his brother speaks it is not towards him.

“I apologize for any anger I’ve caused you, Chichi-ue.” he says, too calm and no sincerity in his words, and waits as if that was an acceptable apology.

His father must be in a good mood, because he looks at Tobirama and back at Hashirama's false grin and lets his hand drop from his sword. 

“Leave.” he growls, as if he could and would change his mind at any point. Hashirama thankfully doesn’t quip, leaves almost as fast as he’d arrived, and Tobirama lets out a sigh of relief.

He didn’t know how much longer he could play peacemaker for them, not when the tension was so high. He’d do it though, just as he always had.

They were his family, and he’d protect them in any way he could, even if that was each other. They were butting heads more and more often and he wondered how long Hashirama would last until his impulsive need change anything he didn’t like overcomes any sense he has. It hurts, it hurts when they fight like this.

He puts it away from his mind, he needs to prepare for the next battle. Izuna has started training his speed even more and Tobirama needed to figure out how to keep him away while he gets ready to counterattack.

With that thought, he starts to leave as well, intent on going to his study to write down his ideas and start looking into them.

His father’s hand stops him, a mockery to the Hashirama’s touch from earlier. The intent all different. Not an apology for having to be stopped again, not a friendly touch, something else entirely-

Butsuma growls, low in his throat, and he falls into him obediently.

No one knows about this, they’d both ensured it. And the only sensor good enough to tell when people were… intimate was Tobirama himself.

Arms wrap themselves around his midsection and a mouth nibbles at his ear, hot breath causing a chill to run through him. 

“Father?” he says, but it isn’t really a question, despite his intonation. 

“If that boy doesn’t straighten up soon…” he says, but then he shifts gears entirely, as if to distract himself from his grievances (from his worries for the clan, for  _ him _ ), “Nevermind that, you look stressed, my beloved son, my  _ Tobirama. _ ”

Tobirama shivers at the way his name is said, and determinedly does not think about his stomach roils in his belly, how he feels like throwing up.

This was wrong, he was starting to understand.

He couldn’t quite make himself care, not when his father showed his love so clearly.

It’s. Nice.

Different from the stagnation of war, different from his brother’s physical affection he can’t quite understand, different in that Butsuma whispers it to him, over and over and over, that he can feel it in the aches of his muscles and marks on his skin. 

He falls into his father’s embrace and doesn’t regret it when he turns himself around, lets his hands wander as if disconnected from his brain, underneath a shirt to feel muscle, to plant a kiss on his father’s cheek.

“My perfect son.” he says, and Tobirama is  _ alive _ , “So good for me.” 

A blush overtakes his cheeks, and he knows he finds it how wonderful his father finds it when it does so, able to control his face so well, yet choosing to trust father like this. He doesn’t quite tell him he can’t make himself stop, not when hands were so, so close, touching him as no one else had. 

(Not even himself. He only rarely felt the need to touch himself, stuck in his head and feeling like he was wasting time whenever he tried and not at all enjoying it. Sometimes father liked to watch him try to masturbate, it almost always ended in disappointment until father was pinning him down and- )

Father pushes him up against the wall, gentle where he does not need to be. (It’s the only gentle touch Tobirama is ever afforded. Hard in every other part of his life. Fight and defend and kill and don’t falter.)

“What would you like me to do to you, my pretty pretty son?” he says, smiling down at him and he answers in a whine and legs wrapping themselves around Butsuma, so that he was his anchor, the only thing holding him up. His hands weren’t uselessly clinging, though he knows that was always Butsuma’s goal, to get him to a point where he  _ couldn’t _ explore Butsuma in the same way he devours him.

“Shh, I’ll give you what you want.”

There’s chakra sparking along his skin as Butsuma gets excited and Tobirama shivers and quakes under its ministrations. Butsuma’s hands traveling downward until he’s divested of his pants and then there’s fingers inside of him, and another hand running along his side, to his ass, and squeezing.

“Anything you want, my sweet.”

“Please…”  _ Please, please, don’t stop. Please, please, don’t leave him alone. _

“Yes?” Asking him, as if Tobirama has any preference, as long as he isn't letting Butsuma down.

He goes with the safe option, one that Butsuma always seems to appreciate, begging him so wantonly like he can't handle the thought of being denied.

He begs to be fucked, to be used, to be  _ loved _ , and Butsuma coos at him, reassures him, and sinks in with a pleased groan. 

Sweet words whispered in his ear, singing his praises, telling him how  _ perfect  _ he feels, how well he's behaving.

Tobirama almost believes him too, when he repeats it over and over like that, pleasuring him so, but he doesn't feel clean, let alone perfect, and he remembers again how none of this is quite right.

The thought is pushed out of his mind when. hand grips his hair and father speeds up and all he can think of is how spread open he is, how good it all feels. 

Father bites his shoulder as he finds release, a hand going to his cock to assure Tobirama's own needs are met.

He fucks him and strokes his cock and Tobirama is gone, head thrown back and silently screaming when father, father, who loves him as much as the moon and the stars and everything in between, presses a thumb lightly into his slit and biting down hard into his shoulder.

Father is holding him on his lap when he can think clearly again, and reading over notes almost absently, clothed once again. 

He's cold, so he curls up closer to a warm chest, cozy and relaxed and almost dreaming, when a hand finds its way back into him, he bites his lip to keep in the keen that wants to escape and wonders how long this peace will last.


	5. HashixTajima,,, i guess - gunpoint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i dont have an explanation for this  
rated m

He makes it just in time. Just in time to see his little brother for the first time in years.

Just in time to see his little brother choking on an arm around his throat, feet completely lifted off the ground and sobbing, eyes holding only fear. Behind him Madara’s uncle, an ugly scar on his face, claiming to be a war veteran (Hashirama suspected something more now, more to do with what he had been investigating, his missing little brother, the Kaguya clan… everything about this mess revolves around the Uchiha didn’t it? How had he not noticed?)

There’s a gun pressed up against his head and Hashirama has just enough wherewithal to yell no when a shot goes off. 

Blood sprays everywhere, there’s a hand over his eyes and Madara’s voice and he wonders where everything went wrong.

All he can see is the last image of - of Madara’s uncle, Madara’s uncle, ( _ how involved was Madara in all of this, could he forgive him, could he, could he, could he) _ , holding his little brother, pressing down with no remorse, a smile on his face, and Itama had been shivering, and there was white over his face, and Hashirama doesn’t want to imagine what had been done to him.

He’d trusted the wrong people. The image of red and white flashes before his eyes like lightning and he’s burning, burning up. Itama was dead and wouldn’t be coming back.

What had he done? How could he explain  _ this _ ? Would Tobirama ever forgive him? Where was Tobirama even? Was he safe?

“What did he do?” he yelled, voice cracking, “What did he do to deserve death?” He’d been captive for so long, why would they… why now… 

It nagged and nagged at him all in one little second, all it took for Madara’s hands to lock him in place, stronger than him when he’d been letting himself go for so long, a rag pressed over his mouth and - 

He fights it, claws at the hands holding that cursed soaked rag over his face, trying to hold his breath. He doesn’t think to pretend unconsciousness, he knows it’d be held over his face for 10 minutes to ensure he is asleep anyways, the only way is to get away  _ now _ , run and find  <strike> the rest of  </strike> his family, and get as far away from this place, the Uchiha, as possible.

He can’t get an inch on him and he feels himself getting more and more tired and Madara ignores his struggles, whispers at him to  _ calm down and stop struggling _ like poison in his ears, as if that would make him listen, as if Madara was trying to help him. He wanted to trust Madara still, even after this, but...

This or death, he thinks. This or death. And he doesn’t stop fighting.

Madara talks to that man, that cursed man who laughs and laughs. Talk about what they would do to him like he isn’t even there, how he wouldn’t see the light of day again. He feels tears spill from his eyes at Madara’s betrayal and then anger when he talks about his dead little brother, touching him still and he wants to yell at him to not touch Itama’s body - stop desecrating his memory even in death!

He doesn’t get the chance to do so, not when Madara holds him like this, ignoring his tears and his weak body trying to get away.

When he wakes up, it’s to a boot on his crotch pressing down and a sadistic smile. His arms are tied up above his head and he sees Tajima’s face cruelly smiling down quite clearly before it is blurred by tears. He does not even make a weak attempt to get away, not when… not when it would be of no use, not when he had caused all of this. 

He closes his eyes, and wills everything away.

  
  



	6. Izuna&Madara Uchiha - dragged away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bitterness and How Izuna awakened his mangekyou  
Rated like, i dunno T

Izuna has always thought that Madara was lucky. It didn’t usually inspire feelings of envy, not when that means his last brother would  _ stay alive _ , but sometimes it felt unfair. 

Madara was born first, Madara was their mother’s favorite, Madara was chosen to lead the clan and Madara was his everything. He inspired  _ something _ in people that Izuna could never quite put a finger on. He can’t imagine how anyone who grows close to his brother wouldn’t end the world for him. 

It’s why he wasn’t punished for meeting a boy by the river with his only excuse being he didn’t know he was a Senju. It is why, while children run from his grouchy face at first, families will always trust Madara with them again and again (especially when they run up and hug him and smile only days after being terrified). 

Madara got his sharingan losing a friend made by a river, a bond melded together by dead brothers, and broken for Izuna. But. But his friend still lived, he saw him every battle, fighting yes, but not lost, not for good anyways, only for as long as circumstance and Madara’s stubbornness kept them apart (he wonders how he can manage to turn away from attempt after attempt from his precious person to mend bonds, no matter how Izuna advised him to be wary of trick, not quite earnest Senju. He knows it is how Madara eventually awakened his mangekyou.)

It is why, whenever he looks at Izuna and smiles, Izuna feels his heart crack, because it is so vulnerable, so soft, and Izuna knows he holds Madara’s world together. He knows he is cruel when he tells him his dreams are a farce, but that is what it is, even if he crumples at the words, looks at his enemy,  _ old friend _ , with cold eyes that are nothing but a mask. It may crush his Aniki, but it is the truth, and he’d rather that than Madara dead and abandoned for  _ ideals _ . Madara is lucky, but he won’t let him become complacent relying on such a finicky thing.

It is days like today though, sitting in a pool of drying blood and refusing to move that he curses Madara’s luck. 

He knows Madara got his Mangekyou, knows that as his brother he has a likely chance of awakening it as well, but he hasn’t quite felt enough despair to unlock it.

He had spoken of his worries, on how he couldn’t keep up with Madara, with  _ Tobirama, _ in strength and speed and anything that matters. Too desensitized by mass death to feel anything at the corpses gathered at the end of battles. Didn’t have the strength, nor the will to break the hard earned bonds he did have. Everything he did, he did for his loved ones, those close to him. He would live for them, would never hold one above the other, kill one to protect the others. He  _ had _ spoken of how like this, he’d die, and Madara would be ruined.

He hadn’t meant for him to take it like this. To mean to come to Izuna with a sword and then  _ turn the sword on himself. _ It was a foolish plan, too foolish with no guarantee to work, but he should’ve expected it. 

Now, all he could do was regret that he couldn’t try harder to unlock it by himself. Now, he regrets not being able to do everything right like his older brother. Now, he sits on the floor in a bloody bedroom trying to perform first aid and flash his chakra to signal that something is wrong. Now, he clings and he doesn’t cry and he regrets. 

When the medics come, Izuna gives them just enough space to work, but then a mouth breaks out into a cough and then weakly pushes their hands away, and Izuna has had  _ enough _ .

Tells him to be quiet and tells the medics to keep working, but they refuse to and for the very first time he  _ hates _ his clan and he  _ hates _ their traditions and he wishes the sharingan wasn’t worth blood and family.

They don’t leave either, they sit and they watch and they witness, and Izuna’s heart feels like it's bleeding and his eyes are almost singing. He wants to claw them out, almost, but then this really would all be for nothing. He doesn’t quite envy Madara, but he hates what he has been forced to go through in turn.

None of the medics dare to try to remove him when they finally declare him dead, and Izuna is so close to just killing them all, and leaving the bodies to rot next to his beloved friend, but it wouldn’t be tradition and it wouldn’t be taken kindly, and  _ Izuna _ would be abandoning the clan, and Izuna would be the one betraying them, and he would not stand to blur the memory of this day, this sacrifice, with his own rotting anger.

When Madara comes to pull him away, he clings harder, and Madara doesn’t push, just rubs circles into his back, talks to him with kind words. Only after hours, only when he can hear his hunger and the smell gets intolerable does Madara truly start to force him up and away. He fights him, throws everything he has, but Madara has always been stronger than him, and he finds himself pulled away and away. He finds himself sitting before Madara desensitized and a towel pulled over him (bloody, bloody, bloody), Madara lift his face and worries over him, and Izuna just... pushes his Aniki away-he couldn’t, not now, not like this.He pushes a scream back down his throat and he curls up into a ball and thankfully Madara understands not to touch him at this moment. 

The next battle, he matches Tobirama sword strike for sword strike, jutsu for jutsu, and does not wonder what pattern his sharingan has fallen into.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading or whatever


End file.
